


Comes in Waves

by novocaine_sea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-04-03 19:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novocaine_sea/pseuds/novocaine_sea
Summary: Every night he is woken by the waves, crashing over him; suffocating.Everyday is he haunted by the rush of water in his ear doing somersaults against his ear drums.Everyday is another attempt to escape, but he cannot.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love angst, I'm sorry.  
> Chapters will be in a drabble style for the beginning, no promises going ahead  
> Title from ["Drown"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkV5709EG5M) by Bring Me The Horizon

Every night he is woken by the waves, crashing over him; suffocating. The water fills his lungs but he can’t help opening his mouth trying to gasp in as much air as he can. There is no air to be found. He claws at his neck, at the water surrounding him. He tries to reach for the body in front of him, but it is too far. It slips from his fingers and falls deeper into the abyss, the blackness that is out there.

Every night he wakes up drenched. Not in water from the waves that constantly haunt him and swish in his ears, but from his own sweat. There are angry marks on his neck and ripped sheets at his side. It is cold, the space beside him. Sometimes he can see it filling with water right up to the ceiling, consuming him. He can never escape, not from this.

Every day more water pools in his lungs. It fills them and the only way they can deflate is if the water leaks from his eyes in the form of tears. Funny how the color of his eyes mimics the ocean on a stormy day. Gray and blue, violently thrashing. When the tears come they do not stop no matter how furiously he wipes at them. He has become incapable of controlling them.

 

Akaashi remembers when the water crashed on the shore as the rain poured over them. He was shivering and digging bare toes into wet sand, like clay. It stuck to the crevices even when he tried to shake it out. It seemed never ending, just like the rain.

Bokuto’s smile parted the clouds and stopped the rain for one singular moment. Akaashi could see the sun in his smile. He doesn’t remember what Bokuto said to him, something about going in despite knowing the danger.

Bokuto always liked living on the edge.

Bokuto loved to live.

Akaashi remembers following him against his better judgement. He wanted to hang on to the sun that stopped the water pelting him at all angles and drenched his bones. He was soaked from the inside out. He was cold.

Bokuto warmed him. 

Bokuto was warm.

Rough hands grabbed his as they shed their shirts and left their bags on top to grip the moisture. Akaashi felt the water splash against his toes, his ankles, his calves, his knees. Deeper and deeper he went because wherever Bokuto went, he followed. He followed Bokuto into the violent waves that pulled them under. It was stupid.

Bokuto was stupid.

No, Bokuto was  _ smart. _

Akaashi remembers the panic set in gold irises. He remembers the gold dissipating, turning to black. They went under. More black. Akaashi heard the thrum of something in his ears. Was it his heartbeat? Was it Bokuto’s? Was it the rain?

Akaashi thrashed this way and that. All around him was darkness and the smell of salt. It dried him out and made him weigh heavy like lead. It made him sink. 

But he still held onto Bokuto.

Or did he?

No, he did not.

Because Akaashi reached for him and he was gone, taken by the tumultuous waves. They separated the two of them, the two bound together by something deeper than chain linked fingers. The last sight of Bokuto he saw was of gold fading to nothing. How sad.

Akaashi tried to break free of the madness about him but he doesn’t remember a thing. He doesn’t remember how he broke free.

Was he even truly free? 

No, he was not.


	2. 2

Everyday is he haunted by the rush of water in his ear doing somersaults against his ear drums. He vaguely feels the ghosts of hands on his shoulders hoisting him up, pressing to his chest, resuscitating. He thinks it’s unfair that they got to him first, these hands. He did not deserve to live. He was the pools for gray, murky against the world. The bright dandelions were his other half, but they drowned in his murkiness.

Everyday he curses himself. He curses his life. His body. His hands. The hands that could not reach out far enough. His body that was saved and pulled from the waves. His life that was here and now while the other was then and there. A fleeting thought. A memory. There were only memories now.

Everyday he peels back the layers of himself as he peels at the teared sheets of his bed. He thinks about the future. What is his future? Is there one? How can there be when the layers of himself overflow with water? There is nothing else left but the sea, a sea of breaths that did not make it, a sea of futures that were not destined to live.

 

Akaashi vaguely remembers being pulled from the waves, then nothing. He could still hear it, in empty rooms, under the buzz of bright white lights. It filled his skull, the crack of thunder, a flash of lightning. Then nothing. 

He could feel the water in his lungs, filling them, making them crumple and shrivel until there was nothing left. He tried to take more breaths but each time the water was endless. It was salty and disgusting but there was so much. Endless.

Every time he swallowed Akaashi felt the water in his lungs. He felt the salt in the crevices between his teeth, drying him out. 

Oh how he wishes the lightning had struck him and stopped his heart like the water did Bokuto’s as it filled him, suffocated him, drowned him. Oh how he wished he joined him. 

Akaashi remembers waking up under fluorescent lights. Who had thought that was a good idea? It was too bright and all he wanted to do was shut his eyes or go to wherever Bokuto was.

Where was Bokuto?

Was he okay?

Was he alive?

Did he have salt in his lungs and water in his veins?

“Akaashi?” There’s a quiet rumble beside his bed. Languidly, like moving through molasses, he looks over at the source. He would have expected his parents but figured they couldn’t pull time out of their busy schedules to come see their dying son.

It was Kuroo.

If Akaashi had the energy, he would have groaned.

But he didn’t care that it was Kuroo. Of course it was Kuroo.

But if Kuroo was here, then that meant….

“Bokuto?”

Kuroo’s lips twitched, pulled into a thin line but warbling at the mention of the exuberant man. A hand touched his, curling around his fingers and giving him a squeeze. It reminded Akaashi that he had fingers that could move and he thought of the spaces in between, water filling them where Bokuto’s fingers should have been.

“Bokuto?” Akaashi repeated in a rasp.

Kuroo let go of him and stood, turning towards the door, mumbling something about getting a doctor.

One last attempt.

“ _ Bokuto _ ?”

Kuroo’s shoulders trembled. Akaashi thought he heard a quiet  _ I’m sorry _ as the door opened. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was the man himself.

But it was all he needed.

Akaashi bent his chin into his chest and let out a quiet sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo will come in more as the chapters progress!


	3. 3

Every morning he drags himself into the bathroom to stare at his reflection. Suddenly the room is filled with water and he slowly lifts a hand to touch his face. His skin feels like leather. It is dry. Salt rubs into his pours and clogs him up, nothing left but a shriveled sponge. There is nothing to soak up. No water. No love. No memories. Just sadness and grief.

Every morning he pours himself a cup of coffee. Grinds float in the brown steaming liquid and he stares at them for a long time. He tries to count them but they are endless, just like the seconds in between the water loosening his grip on his lover. Just like the seconds between when water filled his lungs and when he was taken above water, no partner at his side.

Every morning he opens the freezer and takes out the vodka instead. It tastes much better than the coffee. It gives him the burn he needs. It gives him the burn that he  _ wants _ . It ignites him from the inside and makes him remember, even when he doesn’t want to.The vodka creates waves in the bottle as he takes a violent swig straight from the stem. It is the only thing that keeps him grounded.

 

Akaashi does not go to the funeral. The week spent at the hospital was enough time for him to think it over. He felt empty but seeing the casket lowered into the ground would break him into pieces. He couldn’t handle it. So he doesn’t go.

He gets a call from Konoha the day of the funeral. He can’t remember the last time he talked to the blonde. Graduation? That was three years ago. Funny how tragedy brings people together, people you haven’t seen in years. Promises of keeping in touch will linger between you but once the sadness is over it’s back to the same old routine.

“ _ Why weren’t you there? _ ” There is no greeting, just a question, one Akaashi doesn’t think he owes Konoha. When had Konoha ever cared about Bokuto other than complaints at volleyball practice?

(That was a lie).

(Konoha and Bokuto went to the same university. They were best friends, roommates. Akaashi knew exactly how much Konoha cared).

“I was busy.” Akaashi lies. Straight through his teeth. If he grinds down hard enough he can still taste sand.

“ _ Busy? _ ” There’s an exasperated sigh and an incredulous laugh to follow. “ _ Are you kidding? He was your boyfriend, Akaashi- _ ”

“Is.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“He is my boyfriend. Nothing has changed.” The sky is too blue. He wishes it were more gray; the day is too dark for it to be so bright outside.

Konoha is silent on the other line. There are voices in the background and Akaashi guesses that he is with the others, his old teammates, Kuroo, the rest of their friends. Were they getting lunch? Wondering where he was?

Little did they know that Akaashi’s soul had been buried right next to Bokuto.

“ _ He would have wanted you there _ .”

A tiny gasp leaves Akaashi’s lips. It is so small that even he barely hears it. His lips had been pressed tight together, no ounce of happiness or joy there. He sees his reflection in the window and it is harrowing. 

“At his funeral?” 

“ _ Yeah _ .”

Akaashi hangs up. The conversation is stupid, pointless.

Today is pointless.

What is the meaning of today when there is no tomorrow? What is the meaning of today when your tomorrow will be spent doing the same thing as today? As yesterday?

What is the meaning of anything?

What is the meaning of hands rescuing you from the ocean while your boyfriend drifts away, drowning, suffocating, choking? 

What is the meaning of it all when none of it makes sense and none of it is fair?


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one!! :)

Each time it would rain the clouds would part and gold would smile down at him. Sometimes, if he could drag himself out of bed, he would sit under the sun and bathe in its warmth. He feels complete again sitting under the sun, as he used to sit under it every day before it was torn from his. His sunshine had gone and taken his happiness with him.

Each time it rained he would stare out the window. If it was downpouring he would be transported to that fateful day, the one that changed his life forever. He thought they would be together, but forever had been chased from them too early. The rain reminded him of this and he couldn’t bring himself to stare for very long. He always drowned himself in the pillows and sheets of his bed and tried to forget about the storm passing overhead and focused on the storm in his heart.

Each time time he stepped outside, it was never worth it. Some days were too bright, some were too dull, nothing was just right. Everything was wrong. There was no comfort. Comfort was at sea, clinging to a hand that was gone, dissolved by salt and water crashing overhead. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right.

 

Akaashi stops showing up to work. He gives no warning, he just stops showing up. His coworkers, boss, and HR know the situation, but mourning is not built into time off. There is no amount of time that could be given to him for him to properly heal. 

How could one heal when the wound was continues oozing blood, a puddle of crimson at his feet, no chance of staining any time soon?

His phone dies, but he does not charge it. He leaves it on his nightstand, a shell of himself. All his memories are printed there, the face of Bokuto smiling at him whenever he unlocked his phone. Akaashi is smiling too. How does one smile again?

It was never something Akaashi had done frequently, only with Bokuto. Bokuto is gone now. Is he supposed to smile?

Akaashi does not care if he is fired. He doesn’t care about a thing. He doesn’t eat, when he sleeps there are nightmares of water raping him from the inside out. Even closing his eyes is a nightmare. Akaashi chooses to stare blankly at the TV, listening to laugh tracks over cheesy sitcoms and bad anime repeating at early hours of the day.

Dark circles emerge under his eyes. He looks like a skeleton; he  _ is  _ a skeleton.

Kuroo comes by, sometimes. When he can. He lives sort of close and Akaashi thinks he’s wasting his time. Akaashi does not answer the door and Kuroo tries to talk to him through the wood, but it’s fruitless. Akaashi hears nothing but the murmur of a voice, as if Kuroo is speaking underwater. Akaashi knows what it is like to speak under water, to scream, to cry for the one you love. It’s unlike anything else.

But Kuroo never leaves him alone, as if he thinks Akaashi will disappear too if he stops showing up.

Akaashi is ready to disappear, to join Bokuto wherever he is in the beyond. There is nothing for him here, not without sunshine beside him.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo tries and fails

Everyday is a struggle. That is just the truth. It is hard to get out of bed when there is nothing to get up for. How does one put one foot in front of the other when there is no goal far ahead of them? When there is nothing to reach out for? He reached out and he was met with nothing but sea between his fingers. It was not what he wanted.

Everyday he is at war with himself and the world around him. He cannot stop seeing the storm or the waves that drowned him. It is the shallow puddles on the street. It is in the eyes of the corpse in his reflection. The storm follows him, his own personal cloud, raining down on him, never letting him forget. How can he forget? Would he want to? No, he does not want to.

Everyday is a struggle. Everyday is a war. This war will not come to an end, not for a very long time.

 

“You need to go to therapy,” Kuroo declares after he breaks into Akaashi’s apartment. Akaashi ignores him, as he has been for weeks now. Akaashi still has not left aside from going to the small convenience store down the road. He barely eats, barely moves from his spot on the couch or his position on the floor of the shower, curled up and letting scorching water hit his back. 

If it is too cold it will bring back everything from that day, everything he wanted to forget but at the same time never let go of.

“It’s not healthy for you to just sit around. When’s the last time you left?” The TV shuts off, no longer white noise to his thoughts. Kuroo becomes the space filler. He has always been a pain in the ass, but now he has a purpose to Akaashi. White noise. A low hum of a smooth voice in the background. It’s almost nice, if Akaashi didn’t pick up on what the cat-like man was  _ saying _ .

“I didn’t even know you could grow a beard.” Kuroo continues. How can he be so casual? Does he not know what happened? Does he not remember? Does he not remember that the space where Bokuto used to be between them is gone?

Kuroo should have disappeared from his life along with Bokuto.

“Please leave.” Akaashi croaks. He keeps dull gray eyes fixed on the blank screen a few feet from him. He can turn it back on when Kuroo leaves.

If Kuroo leaves.

Will Kuroo leave?

“No.” Kuroo goes into the kitchen and rummages around, opening cabinets and the fridge. Akaashi closes his eyes, tears burning behind his eyes. He wants to be alone, alone, alone-

“Drink.” Kuroo shoves a cool glass of water in front of his face, pushing it against Akaashi’s face. Akaashi flinches and smacks it out of Kuroo’s hand, the glass shattering as it hits the hardwood floor beneath. Kuroo stares at him, mouth agape. Akaashi is breathing hard. The water was too cold.

Like that day. Like the ocean around him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Kuroo’s hand is on his shoulder but Akaashi doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel a thing. Bile rises in his throat and he shoves Kuroo out of the way as he stands on fawn-like legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. He steps on miniscule shards of glass, feeling them dig into his skin and cut him open. Little do they know that he is already bleeding, he’s been bleeding. 

For Bokuto, he bleeds every day.

“Please go.” Akaashi murmurs into the toilet, saliva filling his mouth much like the ocean water did. It tastes like everything and nothing at once. It tastes like the memories he tries to bury but cannot.

Kuroo sighs behind him but footsteps retreat and there is the sound of the front door closing. Akaashi lifts his head and flushes the toilet before lying back. The tile is cold and makes his heart thrum violently in his chest. He cannot stop the tears that cascade down his cheeks.

He cannot shake the feeling of strong hands brushing the tears from his face, even as more come.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback

Every evening, as the sun goes down, he stares out at the sky. A myriad of colors roam the sky and he tries to get a grasp on each of them. He tries to memorize them and hold onto each feeling he has about them, but it is fruitless. There is nothing to be said about these colors. They are all warm. They all remind him of the one that was lost, as he was as bright as these sunsets. But there is nothing left in  _ his  _ head but the dreariness of a violent storm.

Every evening he shuts the blinds and lays on the mattress pooling with salt water from his tears. He lays cold and alone in his own tears, wishing he could melt away and become nothing. There is nothing left for him here. 

Every evening he shuts his eyes. Blocks out the colors. The world. The repetitiveness of the day. The memories. Everything gone except for black behind eyelids and a desire to go somewhere else, but not being entirely sure where.

 

_ “Akaashi!” _

_ A familiar voice calls to Akaashi as he stands on the court. He is alone, or was, until Bokuto had interrupted his tranquility. But he didn’t mind. The intrusion was welcome. _

_ “Hello, Bokuto-san.” _

_ “What’re you doing here so early?” Bokuto is replacing his outdoor shoes with his indoor gym shoes and Akaashi watches him carefully as he turns the volleyball over in his hands. Bokuto comes closer, eyes bright with enthusiasm. _

_ “I could ask you the same thing.” _

_ Bokuto shrugs, a weak lift of shoulders and a heavy drop back down. “Just wanted to get some extra practice in. Will you toss to me?” _

_ Akaashi assesses him for a moment before nodding. They set up the net and brought out the volleyball cart. Akaashi had only been practicing serves, hoping that maybe if he could be better then he would be a regular on the team in his second year. They were going to nationals but Akaashi was only ever brought in as a back up. He wants to be on the team; he wants to be  _ useful.

_ “Come on.” Bokuto claps him on the back before getting into position. He tosses the ball up towards Akaashi and Akaashi watches it slowly falling towards him and it hits his hands in the perfect set, sailing back towards Bokuto who spikes it down on the other side of the net. _

_ “That was awesome!” Bokuto beams at him. Bokuto’s a regular now and he was gearing up to be the ace of their team next year. Maybe even captain.  _

_ “Again!”  _

_ This became routine. Fast forward a few months and Bokuto was, in fact, made captain and the ace of Fukurodani going into his third year.  _

_ And vice captain? _

_ Akaashi Keiji himself. Akaashi is shocked when Bokuto approaches him with this. There are so many other capable players. Konoha… Sarukui…. Washio…. But Bokuto had chosen him. _

_ “Somebody has to keep me in line!” Bokuto winks at him and then laughs, throwing his head back with full force. Akaashi feels himself blush. _

_ It was then that he realized he was in love with Bokuto. He thought he would get over it, but he doesn’t. If anything, his love grows with each toss and each hidden glance that is met with a bright smile when caught.  _

_ The years progress and they come closer. _

_ Akaashi kisses Bokuto after he graduates, tells him to wait for him. _

_ “I’ll wait for you forever Akaashi,” he says. Tears spring to Akaashi’s eyes.  _

_ “I’ll wait for you forever too, Bokuto-san.” _


	7. 7

Every day he sits and thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks until there is nothing but a rush of water in his head and pouring out his ears along with the motivation to do anything but lie down. He can’t do anything but think. His brain will not turn off. He couldn’t turn it off even if he tried. And he’s tried. Oh how he has tried. 

 

Kuroo somehow still gets into the apartment, even after Akaashi has the locks changed. Kuroo is grinning at him as he steps into the foyer and shuts the door behind him, a plastic bag filled with no doubt greasy food hanging off his arm. 

Akaashi wonders how Kuroo can smile in times like these. He almost wishes he could smile, but what is the point when there is nothing to smile for?

“Come on.” Kuroo hoists Akaashi up and forces him to sit at the kotatsu, tucking his legs under the blankets and scooting in. It’s winter now, the snow piling up on tree branches and window sills outside. It’s almost calming, a break from the rain. It’s less triggering, less for Akaashi to remember.

But the gray skies don’t help any. There are a lot of gray skies these days.

“I’m not hungry.” Akaashi mumbles as he contemplates moving apartments. But this is his and Bokuto’s apartment, even if. He can’t leave. He cannot leave the space in which Bokuto used to occupy.

Kuroo only hums in response and pulls out sparsely wrapped hamburgers from the bag. He doesn’t care about Akaashi or his feelings. If he’s trying to cheer Akaashi up he’s doing a poor job. Kuroo shoves the burgers towards him.

“Greasy food will cure what ails you.”

Akaashi gives him a blank look.

Kuroo rolls his shoulder and never loses the smile on his face, taking a large bite out of his own hamburger. Akaashi rips at the bun and eats small bites, already feeling full. This is the most he’s eaten in days. He’s turning into a skeleton, but he doesn’t mind. There is no life in him without Bokuto by his side. 

“You can come work with me, if you’d like. I know you’ve been out of a job for a while.” Kuroo says. Akaashi would rather die than work with Kuroo. He already spends an unwanted amount of time with Kuroo as it is.

“No thank you.” Akaashi declines politely.

There is a growing look of annoyance in Kuroo’s eyes but his face remains the same. “Sure. The offer still stands. I thought it would be nice for you to get out of this apartment.”

Akaashi doesn’t want to leave. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded, connected to Bokuto. This is the only place where the shreds of his happiness remain intact, if only by a single thread. Akaashi’s life is hanging by a thread at this point. 

“Kuroo-san, I would appreciate you not trying to dictate my life.”

This, it seems, is the last straw for Kuroo. He sighs heavily and stands, collecting another burger from the bag. “I’m just trying to help you. You can’t sit in here for the rest of your life. You’re going to die in here.”

“If it meant I could be with Bokuto-san then I would gladly die.”

There is a pause and Kuroo inhales.

“You would follow him into death?”

“ _ Especially _ into death.”

They hold each other’s gazes for a beat too long and it becomes painful for Kuroo to tear himself away. He exhales heavily and the two sit in silence for a while longer before Kuroo makes his exit without a word. Akaashi stays in silence for the next two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start changing next chapter!! ;)


	8. 8

Every day is a challenge. Every single day.

 

Akaashi starts drinking. He had gone outside one afternoon because the walls of his apartment finally became too much. He showered and threw on some clothes that no longer fit him properly and went outside. He had forgotten what the sun felt like on his face. Though the air was a bit chilly from rain, it still felt nice.

Akaashi stumbles upon a bar and decides to go in. Why? He doesn’t know. But it’s been so long since he’s had a drink, or food in general, and he could really use one.

Maybe a drink could numb the pain. The pain is constant these days and Akaashi wishes it wouldn’t be.

He enters the bar and takes a seat, as it is mostly empty. Good. It means that there is less of a chance he will run into somebody who knows him.

“You look like you need a drink.” The bartender raises an eyebrow at him, a small smirk appearing on his face. Akaashi drags his eyes over him, taking in the creampuff swirl of his hair and the boyish chub to his cheeks. Is this guy old enough to work here? He must be. Akaashi doesn’t really care.

“A beer.” Akaashi says simply and tosses a few crumpled yen onto the bar. The bartender nods and comes back a beat later with a pint of beer. He pushes the money back towards Akaashi. 

“On the house.” The bartender flits away to another customer before Akaashi can protest. It’s fine, he decides and shoves the yen back into his pocket. He grabs the handle of the pint and bring the rim to his lips and takes a sip. It tastes like nothing and goes down easy as water. 

Akaashi stops thinking about water and continues drinking. It’s easy. 

He finishes the beer in record time. He wants another. The bartender only raises an eyebrow at him and Akaashi nods, depositing the amount onto the bar again. This time the bartender accepts it and fills up his pint.

This goes on and on until Akaashi’s head is swimming and his stomach gurgles. He waves drunkenly to the bartender and nobody asks if he’s okay. Akaashi feels great. He’s fine. He stumbles out of the bar without having to hold onto anything. If he’s making figure eights on the sidewalk as he walks back to his apartment, he doesn’t realize it. 

Akaashi trips into his apartment and falls pretty hard, but he laughs. It’s mirthless and painful but he laughs as he tugs his shoes off, shutting the door and locking it.

He goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. There is no food. This is fine, he simply turns and goes to the bedroom.

“Ah, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi says to nothing, but he sees Bokuto sitting on the bed, a wistful expression on his face.

“Akaashi…” The illusion of Bokuto says to him. “Please don’t do this.”

“‘M fine…” Akaashi slurs and he sits on the bed next to him. “I miss you, Bokuto-san.”

“I miss you too. I’m sorry I left.” Bokuto looks a little bit gray. It reminds Akaashi of the storm clouds that appeared above them that day and ripped them apart. It reminds Akaashi of the walls of the bedroom and how they suffocate him. It reminds Akaashi of how he is now and not how he used to be but is there really a difference? No. Pain has always been in Akaashi’s life, it’s just reached its peak now.

“I should have…” A sob bubbles from his throat and he presses his face to his hands. He should have saved Bokuto. It should have been his body floating lifeless amongst the violent waves, not Bokuto’s. Bokuto had so much life in him when Akaashi already did not.

Akaashi’s stomach roars and the next thing he knows is that he’s on the bathroom floor, next to the toilet. He doesn’t know how he got there, all he knows is that his head aches and his throat is raw.


	9. 9

Every night he comes to visit, in the other’s dreams. He cannot sleep because the face of his lover is swimming there, always, never wanting to leave. He wants to move on but does he really? He just wants the pain to go away. The pain can never go away.

 

Akaashi tries to drown his sorrows with vodka. He moved on from beer to vodka because it gets him drunker quicker and when he’s drunk he sees Bokuto. Akaashi just wants to touch him one last time, is that too much to ask?

Whenever Bokuto visits him, he always pleads him to stop but Akaashi takes another shot and shoos him away. The clear liquid fire gets rid of his pain and he is numb. All Akaashi wants to be is numb. There is no feeling when he is numb.

Kuroo doesn’t come by and Akaashi hopes he’s finally scared him off. Of course he cares that Kuroo is trying to take care of him but Akaashi does not want to be taken care of. He doesn’t. He wants to live in his shell of a person and never crawl out because there is nothing to his being anymore. His being his buried in a coffin that he had never seen and that he will never see.

Akaashi lays on the couch utterly alone with all the bottles that contain his hopes and sorrows lying around him. He cries sometimes and his tears burn because they’re made of vodka and nothing else. Akaashi eats sometimes but most of his diet consists of alcohol. It’s the only thing that makes him happy any longer, and his happiness is just a fabrication of feelings that he’ll never be able to recover.

Akaashi stumbles through his apartment one day and decides then that he’s going to go through all the photos of him and Bokuto that Bokuto put into a special photobook. There are some from high school with the whole team and just the two of them, some from both of their graduations, a lot from the time when Akaashi visited Bokuto every weekend at his university. All these memories captured in 5 by 7 pictures. 

Akaashi cannot recall a single one.

That night Akaashi cries his vodka tears and he grips onto shreds of memories he can no longer maintain.


	10. 10

Every day he keeps going. Somehow.

 

A pounding sounds at the door, reverberating off the walls of the small apartment. There is a man on the couch, one arm thrown over closed eyes, but he is awake, heart hammering against his ribs in shock at the sudden noise. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the sun, and there are knocked over, empty beer and vodka bottles strewn across the floor. The pounding came once more and a heavy groan sounded from the man on the couch.

“Akaashi, come on!” A voice comes from the opposite of the door.

_ Akaashi _ ? The man can’t form a coherent thought. Is that his name? It has to be.

There is some rustling outside the door and then it swings open, revealing a man of tall stature. Of course, Akaashi can barely see because his eyes are only partially open now, the world blurry. His vision swims as if he is underwater, drowning. Maybe he is drowning.

Everything is dark but the silhouette of the intruder is lit by the hall light. Then it is gone, the only retained memory being of his awful hair. It sticks up in multiple directions, almost defying gravity.

“Dude, what the fuck?” The new addition’s voice is deep, a little rough, and Akaashi leans in that direction. It’s nice. Who is he again? How long has he been like this anyway?

“It smells like somebody died in here… How many of these did you drink?” There’s more rustling, this time near the couch, and the sound of glass clanging against each other. To some it may have sounded like a simple melody, but to Akaashi it’s a gunshot through a mirror. His brain is shattering just like the millions of particles of glass would have. 

It works for a moment, but Akaashi shot up, eyes bursting open. The world spun around him and a noise came from the man beside him, warm hands pressing to his chest and the small of his back. His chest heaved and-


	11. 11

Kuroo stands over the grave. It’s the second funeral he’s been to in the past year and he’s filled with a deep sadness. There was no way he could’ve saved Bo but Akaashi… Akaashi was attainable and savable.

Apparently not. If he could do it all over, Kuroo would have made sure that Akaashi got the help he needed. But in the end he drank himself to death because losing Bo was too painful than anything else.

The casket is lowered and Kuroo watches it disappear from view. He holds his head high and looks at the sky. Gray clouds form overhead. Rain. It’s going to rain. Kuroo lets out a half laugh. How ironic.

Akaashi wouldn’t want it to rain on his funeral. But Kuroo couldn’t control the weather.

If he could, his two best friends wouldn’t be in coffins side by side and he wouldn’t be walking away from their graves right now. But things happen and Kuroo can’t change the past. He’ll just have to live with these holes in his heart forever.

**Author's Note:**

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